


Lying's such a dirty habit

by ALzzza



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Post-Battle, Tim Drake is Red Robin, and he's not the main focus but, how heavy can angst really get when it's less than 1500words?, i kind of want to tag this as heavy angst but??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23835430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALzzza/pseuds/ALzzza
Summary: Dick stares, turns his eyes to stare atTim.Looks at the mask blocking full view of his eyes and wants to scream. This is so past masks;Dick doesn’t know what to do except stare.The hand pauses, and this time, Tim stares back.Starts, catching on so quickly Dick kind of wants to cry again, “’Wing... where’s Jason?” His voice is pulling the words out slowly, like Dick is having trouble understanding. Dick really wants to pretend he is, just so he doesn’t have toanswer.Or, Dick Loses Track Of Jason When a Building Collapses and Finds It Very Distressing.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Comments: 18
Kudos: 487





	Lying's such a dirty habit

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a year ago and never got around to posting it, then today I saw a Tumblr post about post-battle reunions that don't end in sex (which are the BEST post-battle reunions, because c'mon people, they're TIRED) and it reminded me about this and I figured I might as well share :)
> 
> Edit: I just remembered this was based on [that random family reunion video (that also had Tom Holland in Impossible in it??? for some reason lol)](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/622200504751236460/) and it gave me some sibling feels. So this was basically me working on the 'if this happened to my little brother I would ABSOLUTELY be hugging the shit out of him and having several heart attacks' but y'know, make it angstier because it's the _Batfam_ , darling. XD
> 
> I hope everyone's doing their best to stay safe! <3 Enjoy!

Dick stares.

Stares past the dust flying in the air, stares past the ringing in his ears. Stares through the ache in his legs, stares through his _teeth gritting_ until the ache in his legs becomes muted to the pressure in his _jaw_.

Mostly, he stares past the people gathering in groups, the civilians distressing and reuniting _and_ —

Dick stares at the crumbled building in front of him so he doesn’t do something _stupid_ like _start crying_.

There are ambulances stopping, police sirens sounding. Dick thinks he should probably move or—he _doesn’t_ , but the reasonable voice in the back of his head is saying he _should_.

Dick stays in the middle of the road, itch digging past his skin. Body urging him to run, or fight, or vomit up his insides on the footpath.

“ _Nightwing_ ,” there’s a hand on his arm and Dick stares so he doesn’t throw it _off_ and follow the impossible urge to _punch Tim away_. “What are you _doing_? Where’s Hood—we have to _go_.” He pulls at his arm, and Dick digs his heels into the debris-littered tarmac. His feet sit unevenly, rocks sticking between the soles of his shoes.

Dick stares, turns his eyes to stare at _Tim_.

Looks at the mask blocking full view of his eyes and wants to scream. _This is so past masks; Dick doesn’t know what to do except stare_.

The hand pauses, and this time, Tim stares back.

Starts, catching on so quickly Dick kind of wants to cry again, “‘Wing... where’s Jason?” His voice is pulling the words out slowly, like Dick is having trouble understanding. Dick really wants to pretend he is, just so he doesn’t have to _answer_.

Opens his mouth, but his throats suddenly _so dry_ —or he’s just noticed—or—

He shuts his mouth.

Tim sways back on his feet, head turning to look back at the fallen building. His throat bobs as he swallows and Dick’s suddenly _so grateful_ they’re wearing masks.

He looks back. Says, swallowing again, “Where was he? Where was he when the building went down? We can—we can send a search party, or he might’ve gotten _out_. Dick,” leans forward, words drawing together dully. “Have you tried the comm.”

“It’s not working.” _I don’t know where he was_ —he was meant to be _behind_ me, he’s a _liar_ , he _said_ — “You’re probably right.” Says, jaw aching, teeth tense around the urge to clamp them back _down_ , “He probably got out.”

Neither of them move, neither of them look back towards the building.

Dick stares so he doesn’t cry.

Tim’s hand is still on his arm. He looks back at Dick like he’s about to collapse and all Dick can think of in place of reassurance is the way the building fell apart, the way the walls broke down, the way his _ears still might be ringing_ —

“Nightwing.” Tim’s voice is clear and strong and _everything Dick’s should be at the moment_. Then softer but no less firm and Dick thinks maybe he should be taking notes, “Come on, we have to go.”

Pulls at Dick’s arm and his foot falls forward in some mimicry of a step.

_One, two, three, fourfivesixseven_ —

Tim’s hand doesn’t let go, drags him, weaving them away from the crowd like he’s _dancing_ , and Dick doesn’t look back at the building.

Sways in some mimicry of a step.

They stop. Tim stops, and there’s nothing to drag Dick along anymore. Like some windup toy whose string has looped itself back up.

Tim stops.

Hisses, “ _Watch him_.” Hand abruptly _gone_.

“What—”

“Watch him and stay here. I’ll be back, okay? _Stay_.”

Steph’s eyes are on his shoulder. Wisely doesn’t ask. _Maybe_ takes Tim’s words a little too literally.

_Dick doesn’t care_.

Turns, stares after Tim. Fingers beating against his thigh in sets of three. There’re walls building high around his line of sight, Tim disappears. Dick stares like he can burn the buildings down, Steph stares like she can peel the answers from his skin.

Steps forward and there’s a hand on his arm again. “Woah, what are you doing—Red said—”

Dick turns back to her, brushes the hand off to clasp her shoulders instead. “I know,” mouth moving, reassures but all he can think of is the building falling apart. “I know, I’m just going to stand over here, okay?” Takes three steps back, hands slipping from her shoulders, lips tipping in a grin.

“There, easy. Not going anywhere, just standing over here.”

Her eyes follow, Dick leans back on the alley wall, breathes so he doesn’t collapse. Looks away—

Looks down the street—

Buildings tall, proud and quiet. Frames the distant mess of scattered people and red and blue and—

Dick’s fingers beat against his thigh in sets of three.

The minutes stretch past slowly and Dick stares until his eyes hurt and his head throbs. Steph shifts on her feet every minute or so. Dick can feel her glancing between his line of sight and _him_.

But nothing matters except the mess of people down the road. Nothing matters but the mess of people at the _end_ not bothering to walk their way. The road is empty, and nothing matters except Tim said he’d be back and he might come back _alone_.

Dick loses track of minutes, loses track of the people walking circles around the site. Loses track of the number of times his heart stops at the sight of someone that _wasn’t fucking them_.

Tim comes into view, and Steph never had a chance of stopping him.

Yards eating up her yell.

Dick can’t feel the ground under his feet, runs so fast _his lungs burn_.

To be fair to Steph, Dick doesn’t think _anyone_ could’ve stopped him.

They’re barely a quarter up the street by the time Dick gets there. Can’t think properly but he either needs to stop or slow down or—

Dick throws himself at Jason.

Dick throws his arms around him, fingers digging into his _stupid leather jacket_ , breathes so he doesn’t gasp, _has never found the smell of gun powder more reassuring_.

Jason’s hands catch him around the waist more out of _instinct_ than any real thought. Breath leaving him in a quiet _oof_ , doesn’t sway at Dick’s entire _weight_ being flung at him.

“Jeez, I know you missed m—”

“ _Don’t ever do that again_.” Digs his fingers in harder. “Don’t _ever_ — _please_ don’t ever do that again.” Dick’s eyebrows dig valleys of anguished across his forehead, whispers into Jason’s shoulder, “You’re not allowed to do that.” Pulls back, implores like Jason will take it to heart, doesn’t even _care_ his stupid helmets in the way, “ _You’re not allowed to_.”

_Please, please, please_ , don’t ever do that again.

Jason’s hands shift, holding him with more purpose. Says, “I won’t, Dickie. I won’t, promise. It’s _okay_.”

And all Dick can think is, _you’re a liar, you’re a liar, you’re a liar_ —

“You're lying.”

“No, _no_. I’m not, I promise I’m not.” His hands shift, _Dick’s arms wrap around him tighter_. “It’s _okay_ Dick—oh, no. Don’t cry, Dickiebird, _it’s okay_.”

His mask is soaking through and Dick curls closer. Like he might be torn away, like Jason might push him back, like—

“You were meant to be— _behind me_.” Can’t breathe around his gasping. “ _You’re not allowed to do that_.”

Jason must give up on fighting with him because he wraps his arms around Dick properly and just keeps repeating, “I _won’t_ , I know. I’m sorry—”

Dick tries to believe him. Tries to believe him _so much_ , but it’s suddenly the hardest thing in the world. Harder than keeping his legs under him, harder than breathing, harder than not dragging Jason to the floor, harder than—

“ _Please don’t ever do that again_.”

They end up on the floor anyway. When Jason gets tired of holding him up or, standing so obviously out in the open or, _Dick doesn’t know_ —except then he’s being twisted around, legs folding against the gutter. Thinks _this is stupid_ , and they’re still in _uniforms_ , and what the hell is he _doing_ —

“Shh… shh, Dick… _Hey_ , it’s okay…” You’re okay, it’s okay, I’m okay, _except nothing about this is okay_.

Dick stops crying, or no—his breathing evens out but he’s shaking and—

He doesn’t let go of Jason.

“Sorry,” but he doesn’t let go of Jason. “You don’t like hugging.” He’s probably making him _so uncomfortable_ —

And maybe he should be letting go of Jason.

" _Shh_ , Dickie. ‘M not leaving, it’s okay.”

Dick breathes so he doesn’t call him a liar again. Shifts, nose screwing against leather. Mumbles blurrily, shoulders aching from the angel, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Except now he’s got another nightmare and none of this is okay.


End file.
